


the care and keeping of revolutionaries

by qynntessence



Series: (his) absolute mess of a man; the strawberry popsicle 'verse [2]
Category: Hamilton - Miranda
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Domestic Fluff, M/M, Sickfic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-21
Updated: 2015-12-21
Packaged: 2018-05-08 01:47:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,305
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5478779
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/qynntessence/pseuds/qynntessence
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"If you keep sticking things in your mouth like that, you'll get sick!"<br/>"I'm pretty sure your fever has nothing to do with the stellar blowjob I received last night."<br/>--<br/>John falls ill on a Saturday morning. Alexander deals with it.</p>
            </blockquote>





	the care and keeping of revolutionaries

**Author's Note:**

> So, I wrote a really [angsty sickfic](http://archiveofourown.org/works/5380841/chapters/12427916) and I told everyone that I was writing some fluff to make up for it.  
> Here's the first chapter of said fluff, because I got too many ideas.
> 
> Initial concept from hamiltonprompts.tumblr.com: What would Hamilton do if Laurens got sick?
> 
> As always, if there's anything in the trigger warning that you don't want to read, leave a comment with a way to contact you and I'll send you a message with an edited version!
> 
> TW for mild swearing, allusions to sex, mentions of not eating, mentions of internalized homophobia

“Good morning, my dearest.” John wakes up to his Alexander snuggled into his side, fingers tracing patterns onto his bare stomach. “You slept late.” Alex smiles and kisses him softly, lips cool and smooth as he moves from John’s lips to his neck.

“If you keep doing that, babe, we’re not leaving the bed.” John’s voice comes out hoarse, congested, and Alex looks up, his face hovering above John’s waistline.

"Mmmm, I’d be okay with that. You’re all warm.” Alex nuzzles his fiancée’s stomach, hair spreading out across John’s chest as he kisses upwards. Alex’s lips press against his neck, his tongue reaching out to send shudders throughout John’s body. The shaking doesn’t stop, however, and somehow he’s shivering and Alex is wrapping them both up in the blankets. “Hey, hey, hey. You okay?” Alex’s hands move from his waist to his forehead, and his sleepy smile turns into a nervous frown.

“You’re feverish, dearest. I’ll go get the thermometer, you stay here.” Alex tucks the blankets around John before heading into their bathroom. He wonders if Alex will work today, if he’s really sick, but ignores the thought for now as the twenty-something in question returns, sliding his glasses on as he walks towards John.

“You know, I can take care of myself.” John mumbles around the thermometer, but Alex shakes his head.

“Not with a 101.8 fever, you can’t. Besides, it’s Saturday, it’s not like I have anything planned. Do you need anything?” John shakes his head, but he grabs Alex’s hand as he retreats, pulling him closer for a kiss. “Are you trying to get me sick, dear?” Alex mumbles against his lips, but he presses closer, always desperate for more John. Besides, despite his habits that allowed personal care to fly out the window, Alex almost never falls ill. He claims that he was sick enough as a child that the world takes pity on him; John knows that it’s because the moment Alexander Hamilton gets a temperature above 99 degrees, he throws himself into sleep for a day and wakes up fine, apparently frightened of the prospect of spending any time doing nothing.

Unfortunately, some divine being in the universe decides that the best time for John Laurens to start sneezing uncontrollably is while making out with his fiancée, and Alex pulls away with a little grin on his face.

“Gross, John.” He wipes his mouth on his t-shirt, still with that teasing grin, and gives John a real smile, one that reaches his eyes and reminds him why he fell in love with this absolute mess of a man.

“Don’t complain if you’re the one who started it.” John shoots back, sneezing twice more as he tries to glare at Alex. He’s starting to feel it now, the congestion building up in his sinuses and the roughness in his throat, and he sniffles loudly, trying not to be obviously ill in front of Alex. He was _disgusting_ when he was sick as a child and there is no way he wants Alex to see him in that state, but knowing his fiancée, he may not get a choice in that matter.

“Don’t get the guy taking care of you sick.” Alex counters, pulling his t-shirt off and tossing it at John’s face. John knows better than to tease him about his ways of dealing with illness- he tried that once, when they both had strep in college, and Alex had ended up staying in Lafayette’s room for _hours_ while John worried over his feverish boyfriend. “I’m going to shower. Don’t die. And put on a shirt, for God’s sake, that’s why you’re shivering.” He places a kiss on John’s forehead carefully, grabbing his discarded t-shirt and dropping it in the hamper as he walks out.

“Are you complaining about my being shirtless?” John calls after him, but leans down to find the long-sleeved t-shirt he had been wearing last night before he had, very gently, fucked Alexander senseless.

“Hello, Peggy? Hi, it’s Alexander Hamilton, John Laurens’ fiancée. I just wanted to let you know that he’s running a fever today, so he may or may not be in on Monday. I’ll tell him. Thanks very much!” Alex comes back into the room with a glass of water, placing it on their very messy bedside table. He holds his phone between his teeth as he pulls off his pajama pants and boxers, leaving them in a pile outside the bathroom door.

“If you keep sticking things in your mouth like that, you’ll get sick!” John mumbles as he pulls the shirt over his head.

“I’m pretty sure your fever has nothing to do with the stellar blowjob I received last night.” Alex laughs as he turns on his music, letting the hot water flatten his hair against his neck. If John were a less confident man, he’d say that Alex didn’t care about his condition; because he’s been riding this train (and riding Alex) for so long, he can see the worry lines in the crinkles in his eyes, the nervousness in the way he breathes deeply before stepping into the hot water. He sings quietly to himself as John pulls himself out of bed.

“I’m going to grab my laptop and put on a movie. Any choices?” John is wrapped in their comforter, leaning lightly against the wall with only his face peeking out, and Alex’s heart jumps at how absolutely adorable his John is.

“Nah, whatever you want. I’ll be out in five.”

“Alrighty. Love you.”

“Love you more.”

\--

“What are we watching?” Alex settles on top of the blankets in a v-neck and dark jeans, his long hair wrapped up in a towel.

“Elf, because I don’t give a shit if it’s April. Why the hell are you wearing jeans- my jeans, for that matter- when you’re not going anywhere?” John slips two fingers underneath the waistband of said pants and Alexander shivers.

“Maybe… mmm… Maybe I was trying to impress you so you’d take them off.”

“Alexander, three nights ago, I watched you complain and then cry over Captain America 2 for, like, two hours. Impressing me is a feat you can no longer accomplish. Take off the damn pants.” John grins up at Alex and he just rolls his eyes.

“Aww, John, you want me to take my pants off! Hey, hey, don’t you dare!” Alex ducks the pillow aimed for his face and rolls out of bed, landing very ungracefully in a pile on the floor.

“See, this is why you can’t impress me. You can’t even have a proper pillow f-” John is cut off when Alex smothers him with a pillow, pulling it off only to pull John upwards and kiss him fiercely. His hands brush against John’s waist and _fuck_ , but Alex knows exactly how to distract him from everything else but the two of them. He's pushing closer now, pressing John’s feverish body against the mattress, and John takes his opportunity before he becomes too enamored with the way Alex’s lips feel on his collarbone. John unbuttons his jeans, pushes the denim to the floor, and then pulls away, ignoring the pout and arousal on Alex’s face. “Comfortable pants, Alexander. _Please_.” Alex’s eyes twinkle as John says his full name, a rare treat, and he laughs against John’s lips, kicking the jeans under the bed.

“Alex, those are mine, you know.” John swings his legs over the bed and stands up quicker than he should have, almost forgetting about the fogginess in his head until he’s sagging against Alex, who immediately pulls him closer with an arm around his waist. All lewd jokes and smiles are forgotten as John leans heavily into his partner, suddenly feeling very tired and very, very nauseated until he finds himself horizontal again, a slightly-panicked high school teacher kneeling in front of him.

“I’m- I’m okay, Alex.” He manages to say, but his head is pounding against his skull and all of his limbs feel heavier than they should and he’s trying really, really hard to keep everything in his stomach. John thanks himself that he hasn’t started sniffling too badly yet, that he’s still just in his tired phase, that Alex hasn’t seen him when he’s too busy sneezing to worry about anything else. John wraps his arms around his torso tightly and breathes deep, relaxing as Alex’s hand makes its way through his hair.

“Shhh. It’s okay, dearest, you’re okay. I’ve got you.” Alex passes him the water and grabs another box of tissues from the bathroom, even though John has decided that he will not need them, and he notices the shaking in Alex's hands that he tries to hide. He takes the jeans from under the bed and folds them carefully, placing them into their dresser before turning around slowly.

“I’m sorry, John. That was immature and I hurt you. Are you okay?” John sees a flash of sadness mixed with guilt and panic before Alex’s face goes blank again, his forehead leaning against the wall as he tries to reel in his emotions.

“Yes, darling, I’m fine. I forgive you, even though you didn’t do anything wrong. Come on, come back here, love.” John has learned over the years how to pull Alex into his orbit, how to calm him down when he feels like everything is falling apart around him, how to pull him out of his emotions and back into John’s arms.

“Alexander.” Focus him first.

“It’s okay, dearest, there’s nothing to worry about.” Remind him that nothing bad happened, that there’s no reason to be emotional.

“I’m not angry at you, sweetheart.” Tell him that no one is upset with him except himself.

“I just want you to come over here and watch movies with me. Please?” Give him a task to do, something that will make him feel productive and get his mind off whatever he thinks he did wrong.

The nicknames are just for the little smile Alexander gives him, the one that John’s been in love with since his first year of undergrad, the one that shows Alex’s surprise at being cared for, the one John tries to get out of him every day to remind Alex that he is loved and cherished and deserves to be happy. “Come here, baby.”

Alex returns to bed in sweatpants and opens his arms for John to climb into. A warm, sniffling mass settles to his left and Alex pulls him closer, trying to fix John's illness with affection alone. The sick boy in question nuzzles against his neck, too-hot forehead pressing closer, and Alex holds John as tightly as he can as the other man coughs his way through the movie.

\--

The credits from Avatar play in the background as Alex moves the laptop away, turning closer to his adorably sleepy John. He kisses across against his too-warm knuckles, trying very, very hard not to panic. John sniffles quietly, and Alex wordlessly hands over the box of tissues. He shakes his head.

“’m good, Alex.” Another sniffle. Another shove with the box. “ _Stop_ , Alex. I’m fine.”

“If you were fine, darling, we would be doing something very different in bed. What’s going on?” Alex turns around so he can see his John better as the other boy sneezes twice.

“’m sorry I’m all gross.” John blushes and wipes his nose before burying himself in Alex’s shoulder, as if his fiancée is going to tease him for being sick. He rubs circles onto John’s back softly instead, letting the other boy cough harshly against his t-shirt. “You can go, if you want. I can take care of myself. ‘m sorry I’m so gross.” He repeats with another sniffle, this one even quieter, as if John is trying to hide the fact that he’s sick. “Sorry you have to be here. I know you have stuff to do.” His voice is more congested than Alex would care to think about, but he’s doing just that when John sneezes again and all of a sudden, Alex has two armfuls of sick, crying John Laurens on top of him.

“Oh, John, my dearest John, shhhh. It’s okay, love, it’s okay. You’re not gross, John, you’re just sick. That’s a part of life. You don’t need to be embarrassed, darling, I’m not upset. I don’t have to be anywhere else but here with you. I don’t want to be anywhere else but here with you.” Alex settles his John, gently calming the sobs down to John’s sniffling, frighteningly normal at this point, and he eventually pulls himself out of Alex’s shoulder.

“John? Do you want to talk about it?” Alex is treading carefully, or as carefully as he is capable of, but John shakes his head. “Okay. That’s okay, love. Please don’t be embarrassed to be sick around me, dearest. I just want to make you feel better.” Before he can respond, John starts to sneeze again, and Alex, miracle that he is, has a handful of tissues pressed to his face before John can even realize what’s happening. John coughs loudly before moving Alex’s hand away, and he wordlessly tosses the Kleenex in the trash before pulling John around to look at him. Their foreheads are pressed together, noses barely touching, and John’s stomach fills with guilt when he realizes how sick Alex is going to get in a few days.

“How do I not gross you out right now, Alex? I’m sick and disgusting and snotty and you’re gonna get sick and-” John is cut off by another coughing fit, and Alex doesn’t even blink, just pulls them both into a sitting position, John in his lap, and lets the other boy shake into his shoulder.

“My dearest John, you never gross me out. Your being sick doesn’t negate my being in love with you. If we were married, I would quote our wedding vows; since we’re not, I’ll tell you that I will pledge to be with you, in sickness and in health, and that started the day I met you. This doesn’t, and never will, change that.”

“You know that I love you, right?” John mumbles into his shoulder, kissing the cold skin there. Alexander was never cold to him, either in temperament or temperature, and it’s surreal that Alex is the one cooling (and calming) him down. He still feels hot and sweaty and gross, and honestly, he probably looks just as terrible as he feels, but Alexander holds him like he’s the most precious thing in the world and kisses him the way he did the night they got engaged and he doesn’t know what he did to deserve a person that would help him blow his nose when he was sick.

“Of course I do, dearest.” He whispers back, cool fingers running over his forehead. “And I you. You feel warmer.” Alex is distracted by the prospect of his John getting worse, grabbing the thermometer from the bedside table. “Are you feeling worse?” John nods, the motion making his head spin. He leans heavily into Alex and the other boy slides the thermometer into his mouth. “Dizzy?”

“Yeah.”

Alex’s frown grows deeper once he looks at the thermometer. “You’re up to 102.9, dear. Do you want me to get an ice pack? I put some in the freezer.” He frets quietly, moving to get up to try and lower John’s fever. His John looks absolutely miserable, and not just from the crying. His nose is almost comically red, he’s pale but flushed with fever, and there are too many bags around his eyes than Alexander is really comfortable with. Coupled with John’s fear about being ill around him, Alex is convinced that his fiancée probably feels worse than he looks, and when said fiancée breathes in and winces, Alex wishes he wasn’t always right.

“Stay.” John pulls him closer, burying himself in Alex’s side as the nausea starts up again. Alex holds John close to him as he starts coughing again, slightly-shaking hands running through his matted curls and holding tissues against his too-red nose as needed.

\--

John wakes up warm and alone, momentarily confused as to where Alex had gotten to in their small apartment. He still feels _sick_ \- his head is nothing more than a dull ache, he’s more congested than he remembers, and his throat seems to be trying to set the rest of his body on fire.

“Al-Alex?” He calls out softly, trying and failing to get louder than a whisper. He coughs harshly, shaking with the effort, and tries again. “Alex?”

“Couch, dearest! Don’t get up, I’ll be right there.” And he is, in all his messy-haired, bright-eyed glory. “How are you feeling, love? You slept for a while- it’s three in the morning, and you went to bed around- uh, around five in the afternoon. Damn, I’ve been awake too long.” He doesn’t seem like it, with the way he’s bouncing on his toes, but John doesn’t put it past Alex to forget to sleep.

“Lousy. Worse than earlier.” He manages to say, but his voice cracks and he winces and Alex looks terrified for a second. “Why- why are you awake at 3am, Alex?”

Alex turns sheepish, blushing slightly and looking down at his socks. “I was worried about you. I wanted to make sure I was around- um, around if you needed me. I graded some papers for school, but I checked up on you and stuff.” He’s suddenly rambling, inarticulate, and John’s heart nearly explodes with happiness.

“Alex. It’s okay. I’m okay.” He sure doesn’t sound okay, but his voice doesn’t crack this time and he sits up slowly. “You do need to sleep, though. If I promise to wake you up if I need anything, will you sleep? Please, baby? I don’t want to get you sick.” John is starting to notice the tremors in Alex’s hands, the redness around his eyes, the way his hair isn’t mussed by him running his hands through it, trying to understand a particular paragraph, but rather by pulling and tugging when he’s panicking. He’s breathing through his mouth, which means either he’s sick or he’s been crying, neither of which John particularly wants to be happening to his Alexander.

“Promise?” Alex’s eyes are large and nervous, and he bites his lower lip as if John isn’t going to agree to his own proposition. He must actually be exhausted, then, because Alex is never this open with his emotions, never this childish, unless he’s drunk or sleepy, and John knows that Alex would never drink if there was even a chance John might need him.

“Of course I promise. I’m just going to curl up and watch more movies. Do you want to sleep on the couch or in bed with me? In all fairness, though, you will get sick if you sleep in here, so you should probably crash on the couch.” Alex ignores his warning, however, and flops onto the other side of the bed with a grin. He’s very smiley, but John knows this boy more than Alex knows himself, and Alex’s immediate defense mechanism is playful ecstasy, because no one asks if you’re okay if you’re over-the-top happy.

“Darling? Are you okay?” John cups his face gently, thumb running over Alex’s gorgeous lips until those lips start kissing his fingers.

“I feel fine, John, I’m not getting sick. Don’t worry about me, just get better.” He smiles, but they both know it’s not real and Alex just snuggles closer to his pillows, hoping that John will just let it go.

“That wasn’t an answer to the question, dearest. I know you’re worried about me, but I’m going to be okay. You need to sleep. I’m not going to die if you rest, sweetheart.” And John immediately regrets saying that, because Alex has told him about his mother and his little sister and John sees the anger cross his face before he hears the sharp intake of breath, sees the tears at the corners of his eyes, and Alex grabs his pillow and stalks out of the bedroom, breathing hard.

“Alex? Alexander, love?” John untangles himself from the bedsheets and manages to sit up before he hears the reply, far too soft and far too quavering to be his confident Alexander.

“Just give me a minute, John. I’m not angry, I just need- I’m trying to- just give me a minute.” It takes eight and a half, but Alex returns, the way he always does, with his hands shoved deep into his pockets and his face frightened, as if John is going to yell at him for being upset.

“Sorry. I’ll- um- I’ll go sleep on the couch. Go back to bed, you need to rest or you’ll get worse, John. Sorry. Um. Yeah. Sorry.” Alex is shaking now, looking like he wants to collapse into tears, but he methodically pulls the blankets around John before backing away with his hands in the air, still looking more frightened than John had seen him in _years_ , more frightened than when they had met John’s father as a couple for the first time, and John feels his heart break.

“Alexander. Darling, come here.” Focus him first.

“It’s okay, come here, baby. You don’t need to be afraid of me, I’m not going to hurt you.” Remind him that nothing bad happened, that there’s no reason to be emotional.

“I’m not going to hurt you, baby. I’m not angry at you. I’m the one who messed up.” Tell him that no one is upset with him except himself.

“I just want to make sure you’re okay. I know this is hard for you. Can you come over here?” Give him a task to do, something that will make him feel productive and get his mind off whatever he thinks he did wrong.

Alex sits on the edge of the bed reluctantly, looking for all the world like a child expecting punishment, and John vows to never get sick again, because he and Alex have worked through this part, they’ve gotten to the point where they’re not afraid of being weak around each other, where Alexander can cry and not be afraid that John will hurt him for showing emotion, but he knows that sickness makes things so much harder for Alex, sickness makes Alex retreat into himself and makes him terrified of the world and all the things it can take from him. John is frustrated that Alex has gone backwards, is scared of him again, but he knows that he can’t let that anger come through in his words. He knows it’s not his fault, not either of their faults, really, so he treads carefully, knowing that he may be the only person who understands how delicate the man in front of him truly is.

“Alexander. My dear, sweet Alexander. I’m not going to hurt you, sweetheart. I’m never going to hit you, no matter what you do. You’re safe here, darling, you’re safe, I promise.”

Alexander shatters, covering his face with his hands as he sobs uncontrollably. He moves to the middle of the bed and John pulls him as close as he can get, letting Alex soak his t-shirt as he hiccups and coughs and cries.

“See? It’s all going to be okay, baby, it’s all okay. I’ve got you, I’m not going anywhere. I love you so much, Alexander, I’m not going to leave you here. I’m not leaving, baby, I’m not going anywhere.” John’s mind doesn’t even register the fact that he’s the one who’s sick, that Alex is supposed to be taking care of him, because they’ve always been like this, breaking down with each other, panicking at the other’s distress, ignoring their own issues in favor of their lover’s arms.

He remembers sobbing when Alex was hospitalized last year and Alex wordlessly pulling him into bed and holding him, telling him ridiculous stories about school until they couldn’t breathe from laughter.

He remembers Alex pulling out his hair and screaming into pillows from stress during undergrad and collapsing, sobbing, against John, whose depression was running rampant enough that he hadn’t gotten out of bed in three days, but they clung to each other and made it through another night.

He remembers days upon days of Alex not eating because _I love boys, John, and that’s wrong and I’m sorry but I love you too, please don’t be mad, I’m so sorry_ , and the look of terror on his face when he expected John to hurt him, and how John came out first to his starving, crying roommate who was absolutely terrified of being beaten because he was in love.

“I’m never going to leave you, baby. I’m gonna stay with you for a long, long time.” And Alex finally pulls out of John’s shoulder, blows his nose loudly, and looks at John with those big, innocent eyes that he never could resist.

“’m sorry I’m all gross.” He blushes, and John _laughs_ , honest-to-God laughs, before it turns into a cough and Alex gets worried again.

“I’m fine, baby, I’m fine. I think we’ve had this conversation, maybe earlier today? Something about wedding vows? ‘In sickness and in health’? Maybe something like ‘your being sick doesn’t negate my being in love with you’? That goes for you too, darling. I’m not going to love you any less because you get upset. I know this is really, really hard for you to do and I appreciate it so much.” John pulls Alex’s head into his lap and grabs the hairbrush from the bedside table, slowly brushing through his hair. The repetitive motion seems to calm Alex and, by the time his hair is smooth, he’s curled up against John, fast asleep.

**Author's Note:**

> thanks so much for reading! i'm open to concrit (always) and would love to know what you enjoyed or what you'd like to see more of!


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